


Multiples

by korik



Series: Speak Without Words [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boundaries, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Kissing, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Overstimulation, Touching, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:31:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vaeln is physically hypersensitive but this also results in being overstimulated to such an extent, she requires being alone. Cullen recalls what that conversation was like after finding himself rejected by her.</p><p>Mostly going to be over here staring at the ceiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Multiples

The yammering thrill of his heart escalates high in his throat; she kisses like air is a hindrance, one space  _more_ that should be removed, useless until proven otherwise - and then,  _even then_ , he doubts she cares with the way she tries to  _feast_ on his lips, down the expanse of his neck and cradling his calloused hands as though they were the finest Orlesian silks, fresh Antivan leathers, fervent whispers of _touch me, touch me_  in each protracted motion of his flesh against hers -

 _Maker's breath_.

But that, that is only some days. He recalls moments where he finds her pulling, tearing, avoiding everything and everyone because  _too much_ \- he's learned he cannot touch her then, even when his heart again plays as though it has before, winding up its delicate music box, wires trembling from being plucked by errant fingertips. _But_ _I want to -_

At first, he had been shocked, hurt, sworn he'd  _done something_ \- the smile had been flint cast from a dragon's claw, a paper-mache mask with cold, polished stones for eyes. This was condemnation, rejection - weeks of scraped hours, moments,  _tangled_ efforts to get his lungs working in the proper fashion - what sin had he committed to so be invited, adored, then turned away like last week's old soup?

When she explains, he stares at her as though she speaks another language - another side to something he still doesn't _comprehend_ , another  _inflection_  to play on words and syllables, how the sword she bares is double sided, ' _I should have told you, but I wanted you so much - it's been so long - I forgot because, in some way, I was afraid I'd lose_ you.'

He doesn't laugh, doesn't smile, and sits on to edge of his desk, finding the task of standing too difficult. He sees she has taken her own hand behind her back, and is probably rubbing it again, over and over, fingers and thumbs to palms and joints - she told him once it was a comforting gesture, doubly so due to the painted silk. ' _You won't lose me, I refuse to be lost when my duties, my word, all of it yet to be fulfilled - '_   now he cannot breathe, and his chest feels cracked - ' -  _Andraste preserve me, I thought - I thought it was_ me.  _I thought - Templars and Mages -_ ' The air feels too cold, too stifled, and he isn't sure what to say, or how to say it, tongue too flat, too heavy. _  
_

She laughs, and for a moment he thinks she will rush him, swarm over him, body rigid and taut. Somehow she holds, and somehow he stops himself from reaching out, afraid of a repeat of before. Perhaps, perhaps that is what the measure of it is - all fear, all terror, keeping them from bridging together.

' _I will tell you next I feel it coming upon me, Cullen. I'm sorry again I never spoke up about it - to even hear someone didn't mind -_ ' she shrugs, looking pinched, awkward, hands still trapped by her own measures - ' - me _, I - it won't happen again._ '

This time when she sweeps forward, it is slow, methodical, and he feels as though he watches a dance, waters rising and obliterating what has come before, her bared fingers knotting around his, drawing them to her face as her eyelids flicker shut over the blue-white diamonds. The air spilling from her nostrils is warm, even through the gloves, the low, dull hum of wordless music pushing through all other sounds.

He giggles despite himself, warmth blossoming from head to beneath the silver plate. ' _That tickles_.'

She replies, soft sighs finding some way to touch his spine, ' _But I like it._ '

' _By all means. But, please, Inqui - '_   he chokes, finds it too impersonal, too distant - '- _Vaeln_ , please _. I-I would_ like _to know, it's not you or...myself alone to face the world and bear our difficulties. If I can, in any fashion, assist you, let me know. I'm-I'm ah, well, not very good at this._ '

' _Thank you._ '

He finds when she kisses him to spite air that he can breathe just a little longer, just a little deeper, and no one can take it from him.


End file.
